


Pack Street: Pretty

by MisterEAnon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterEAnon/pseuds/MisterEAnon
Summary: Marty let it slip last night he likes to dress up like a woman and feel pretty.Now Martina has a 'date'.





	Pack Street: Pretty

This was such a terrible idea.

I paced in circles, constantly fussing at my appearance. I made sure my wig was on right, even though it always was. I made sure my dress was straight, even though I took the very best care of 'Martina's clothes, and I made sure my lipstick was properly applied every time I passed a mirror.

Charlie just watched me from her spot on one of the couches. After she caught me the first time, I thought the whole thing was blown, but it turned out she was completely apathetic to my little…

Hobby.

“You look nice,” she offered as I walked by aimlessly, now circling the coffee table. “A lot of women would be jealous to look as good as you do.”

I blushed. I knew she was being honest, because Charlie didn't really ever bother with verbal deception. She tended to be completely tactless when she did speak up as a result, but that was okay.

I knew it meant I really was pretty. And that made me happier then I could possibly describe. Even then, it wasn't her I was trying to impress tonight.

It was Ozzy.

Last night had been one of the periodic bar runs. The kind where the whole pack- Save for the yarn ball, of course- All got together to socialize and get drunk together.

I had a rough day at work, dealing with assholes even louder then I was, and not a fourth as intelligent. I got wasted.

Normally, when I got wasted, Charlie was the one who carried me home, so I didn't really care if I ended up drunkenly admitting things to her she already knew. Damn fox knew everything. But, as it turned out, she'd disappeared to some-fucking-where in the middle of the night already.

Ozzy volunteered to drag me home.

And I had confided in him my little… Hobby.

I told him I wanted to feel pretty. And he told me that he'd love to see it, and he'd somehow worked out a date for tonight where I could visit him as Martina.

So here I was. In a mild, but steadily growing panic. In the middle of my third lap around the coffee table, Charlie idly leaned out and picked me up by the scruff of my neck.

“Hey, watch the dress!” I immediately, automatically protested.

She just stared at me in that half-blank, distant way she had. “Stop pacing.”

I squirmed. “But-”

“But nothing,” she interrupted, setting me back down. “Ozzy's your friend. Probably your best friend. It'll be fine.”

She went back to reading her copy of Heart Shaped Box, ignoring the way I was now glaring at her. It was easy for her to shrug it off. Hell, she could probably put on a dress and nobody would-

Okay, yeah, I couldn't even tell myself that. Everyone would think it was weird if Charlie wore a dress. She wasn't exactly the 'dress' type of girl.

“Yeah, well-” I started to object, before-

“You're going to be late,” she pointed out without looking away from her book.

What? I glanced at the clock. Shit.

“Okay-I-gotta-go-don't-wreck-the-place-” I suddenly mumbled in her general direction. Her ear flicked in my direction, but she didn't say anything as I quickly grabbed my purse off the table and shuffled off.

Hopefully I would oh god damn it.

Remmy was passing by in the hall, and he stared at me. Shit, what could I say…

I didn't have to say anything. “Are… You Marty's sister?” the sheep asked by way of greeting. Rude, not even going to introduce himself.

I just nodded, huffing and stalking off past him. I didn't have time for this, I was going to be late. I heard him muttering something about how he could tell the family resemblance.

Asshole.

 

 

 

I knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Ozzy opened it, peering down.

“Oh, hey Mar-”  
  
I shushed at him, waving my paws. “No, no- I'm… Martina.” I could feel myself sweating already. Goddamnit, why was I going through with this.

He blinked, before nodding slowly. “Cool… Cool. Alright, come on in, 'Martina',” he finished with a grin, opening the door all the way. “Hey, I didn't figure you'd be bringing a purse.”

I flushed. “Yeah, well… Any dress worth wearing doesn't come with pockets worth a damn. It's honestly as stupid as it sounds,” I groaned out.

He chuckled, closing the door behind me and padding forward. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I look incredible, but it's like fashion designers decided that 'pretty' had to mean 'impractical'. A lot of the time, that just means 'no pockets', but sometimes it's the material itself being too damn thin. What, do they want me to buy like three shirts to wear at once? Am I made of fucking money?”

It was weird, having a chance to bitch about problems like this. I had tried it with Charlie, but she had been obviously disinterested and ignored me completely. Ozzy actually seemed interested, though- Interested in a side of me nobody knew.

A side of me that he didn't know.

I dropped my purse by the door. “I mean, it's absolute horseshit. Women's shirts are ultra fucking thin, because they're meant to be 'layered', right? Fuck that! Each one is full fucking price, when they have like a third the material of a regular shirt each. It's nothing more then price gouging because it seems like women are supposed to just roll over and fucking take it!”

He laughed, padding back over and leaning down to muss up my hair affectionately. I immediately squirmed beneath his touch, trying to make sure he didn't mess up my wig. “Yeah, I can't exactly see you as the kind of person to lie down and take it,” he agreed.

I huffed, swatting his paws away. “Damn straight. Just because I'm in a dress doesn't mean I'm gonna play bitch for anyone who looks at me,” I grumbled. “And don't get me started on the pockets, either.”

He started walking, gesturing for me to follow. “I thought you said they don't have pockets?” he questioned, as I followed after him. He'd pulled a coffee table in front of his couch, and set a chair on the other side of it. It was no date or anything, but he'd tried to set up something comfortable for my visit.

I hopped up onto the couch, smoothing down my dress as I draped myself across the cushions. “I did. You know what's worse then no pockets? FAKE pockets. Women's jeans have pockets, but they aren't even real! They're just there to look like pockets, they don't work as actual pockets since they're so fucking small. I mean, make up your goddamn minds- Do pockets look bad enough that we can't include them, or do they look good enough to make this tiny bullshit you can't even use? It's practically fucking decorative!”

I huffed, crossing my arms. Ozzy seemed amused at how heated I was getting, but he didn't laugh at me or anything- He just settled into his seat across from me. “Sounds rough.”

I nodded. “Damn straight. But that's the price you pay for staying beautiful.” And don't even get me started on the sizes. They were completely fucking arbitrary, even on top of trying to size for all kinds of body types-

He leaned forward, making me pause in my internal bitchfest of a monologue. “So, why do you do it?”

I tilted my head a little. “Do what?”

He put his elbows on his little table, interlocking his fingers so he could rest his chin on his hands. “If everything about dressing like a girl is so hard, why do you do it?”

I bit my lip. “You wouldn't understand.”

He just smiled at me. But it was a gentle, understanding smile. “No, probably not. But you're my bud, so I want to try.”

I struggled to find words. As an avid reader, it wasn't an experience I was used to. “It's like…” I sighed. “I don't know. I really just don't know- I just really like the way girls look all dressed up like this. I wanted to look that good, too. I wanted to feel pretty.”

I flushed, anxiously rubbing the back of my neck. God, Ozzy was gonna think I was some kind of freak. Or gay, or… Something. I knew my stress was showing on my face- I wasn't exactly someone who kept the way they felt under wraps, to put it lightly.

Ozzy stood up. Fuck, god, no-

Before I could beg for Ozzy not to throw me out, though, he just stepped around the table between us, joining me on the couch. He gently laid his paw on top of mine. “Well, I think you look very pretty,” he complimented.

Oh.

Oh, uh. Wow, I… I'd never actually had a guy tell me that before. It felt different, somehow, then hearing Charlie say it. I could feel myself blushing furiously, lightly squirming with embarrassment.

“Oh, shut up,” I mumbled, glancing away. “You don't mean that.”

He snorted. “Hey, man- Girl?” He looked briefly confused, then just shook his head. “Martina. Don't impugn my honor by calling me dishonest!”

I snorted, leaning over to shove at his side. “Oh, don't even. I know I'm a librarian and all, but you don't need to break out the fucking thesaurus to talk to me,” I snarked.

He grinned even wider then before, pulling me into his arms. I tensed with surprise, and he gently held me close in his lap. He started to brush his paws down my sides. “Sure, sure. I'm just saying… I think you look very nice in that dress. Is that what you wanna hear?”  
  
I squirmed in his lap. Getting touched so softly, tended to with such care as I was complimented… It really touched me. “…Yeah. Yeah, I like hearing that.”

I didn't sign on for all this cuddling and touching. But, well, I couldn't really bring myself to tell him off, either. He was firm and warm, letting me lie back against his chest as he showered me with affectionate little touches and rubs. He murmured little compliments and words of praise in my ears. Telling me how nice I looked, how soft I felt.

I could tell he didn't know what he was doing, at first. But as I started to get flustered, shyly giggling, he caught on and continued to tell me all the things I wanted to hear. He treated me like I was a girl, praising every aspect of femininity he could think of.

I loved it. I really did feel good. I felt accepted, loved for who I was.

I felt pretty.

I leaned back against him, focusing entirely on the feeling of his paws gently rubbing down my sides, pressing the light fabric of my dress into my fur. “God, this is nice.”

I felt him lean forward to look down at me. Then, he stiffened beneath me. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I can tell.”

I peeked up at him with confusion. “Yeah? I mean, it's pretty good-”

I glanced back down. Oh god.

“Oh god.”

I actually had a hard-on. I hadn't even fucking noticed, somehow, but now that I had it was all I could think about. It was straining my panties, and I bit my lip. “Fuck.”

Ozzy shifted. “I mean, I like you dude, but-”

I glanced up at him. “No! No, I mean… This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I expected. Oh god.” I started to curl up on his lap.

I felt his paws gently, but firmly, straighten me out. Curse everyone being stronger then me. “Yeah? So, this isn't normal?” asked my best friend.

Fuck. “No. No, I… This doesn't happen. I swear, there's nothing sexual about me dressing up like this.”

His tone seemed concerned. He cared about my anxiety more then he cared about the awkwardness of the moment, apparently. “Okay,” he said with complete trust that I was telling the truth. “So, just a random boner?”

What was I, a fucking teenager? “I guess? I mean…” I glanced away. “Well.”

No. I couldn't say it. He'd think I was gay for sure, which wasn't really an idea I needed to give him when I was rock fucking hard in his lap.

He pressed the issue anyway. “What?” he prompted, attempting to massage my shoulders between two fingers on each paw.

I sighed. Much as I hated it, Ozzy probably deserved to know the truth. “I mean- I've never done this. Having a guy complement me. Touch me, make me feel all loved and accepted and shit.”

He seemed to consider for a moment, pausing. Then, he picked me up, standing me up in his lap so he could nuzzle at my neck, gently kissing it.

What?  
  
“Well,” he started. “I think even with your little problem there, you're still the prettiest girl I've had in my place for a while.”

Oh god. Why was he doing that? I could feel my junk twitching. “O-ozzy…”

I turned around in his lap, looking him in the eye. To my surprise, he was smiling widely. It was one of the most genuine smiles I'd ever seen on him.

“Marty. Believe me, dude, I get it. Not the boner part, but…” He nuzzled me again. “I understand what it's like, wanting to be loved. Needing to be accepted. It's really, really okay.”

He was tearing up for some reason. And as I watched, so was I, feeling my throat clench up.

I leaned forward, hugging him. He graciously ignored my dick pressing into his stomach, and instead gently ran his paw down my back, keeping me close with the other.

He held me like he wanted me, and I didn't have the will to pull away.

We spent the rest of our night together like that. I was still mortified by my own unexpected arousal, but he seemed to understand that I really, really did not want it taken care of.

He ignored it as hard as I ignored it, so even as precum leaked into my panties, he just touched me and held me and told me I was the prettiest little stoat he ever saw.

Eventually, he stopped cooing soft praise into my ear, just cuddling me against his chest, and my erection slowly faded. I still couldn't believe it, sniffling a little as I nuzzled my cheek against his neck.

“It's… It's really okay?” I asked, voice unsteady.

He laughed, so carefree and genuine. “I'm a hyena, Marty. I'm used to the idea of a girl with a bulge down there.”

It took me a moment to place the reference. Once I did, I started to laugh, and his own laughter grew even louder. He looked down, leaning over just a little as he nuzzled noses with me. I didn't even hesitate as I reciprocated.

God, this was comfortable. After the nuzzle ended, I tucked my head under his chin. “That's spotted hyenas. You're striped.

He chuckled, mussing up my wig again with his chin. “Marty, any hyena who's interested in dating other hyenas knows that.”

I guess he had a point.

It got late. I knew I should probably head home, or Charlie would inevitably destroy the house through sheer apathy when it came to putting shit away. “I should go,” I mumbled. I sounded as unenthusiastic about the idea as I felt.

He leaned back, and I did too, glancing at the door. I didn't want to go. “You sure?” Ozzy asked, looking at me fondly. I couldn't even imagine why he was so… Accepting of me. I was just grateful he was. “If you have to. Just-”

He reached over, gently tipping my chin up with his paw so I was looking him in the eyes.

“If you ever need to cuddle like this, or something- Like, if you need comfort, or need to feel like you belong, come here. Okay? Martina is always welcome.”

I couldn't speak. I was overcome with emotion. And only a little of it was self-directed disgust at my suddenly returning erection. “Ozzy, I…”

I suddenly pulled myself to his chest, clutching tightly to his shirt. “I want to stay. Please.”

I didn't know what came over me. But it was strong.

He let me stay. He gently picked me up, holding me against him securely, gently tucking me into bed.

He found his guitar, and decided he wanted to practice. He serenaded me with a few soft songs, as I cuddled up to one of his pillows.

I felt my eyes closing more then I really noticed it. Before long, I felt him join me in bed. I was still fully clothed, wearing a dress to bed, but he didn't seem to mind.

He just curled around me as the big spoon, protective even as he drifted off to sleep.

Cuddling back against him, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had.

 

 

 

I shuffled back into my apartment, locking the door behind me. I'd managed to get Ozzy to stop cuddling me after about half an hour after he woke up.

He really was a cuddle-bug. He didn't understand why I liked to feel pretty, and I didn't understand why he was so understanding anyway.

I guess we were both fine with our mutual incomprehension.

Charlie was there, of course. She sipped from a mug of her coffee. It was Her Coffee, since she bought cheap shit for herself I couldn't stand every so often. “Hey,” she greeted idly.

I smoothed down my dress. It looked like I slept in it, which I had. And honestly, given yesterday, I felt it was kind of worth it. Thank god no one would ever have to see the little stain in my panties from my arousal last night. “Hey,” I grumbled in return.

She slipped a bookmark into a book in her lap, closing it and setting it aside. “So, did you sleep with him, or are you saving that for the third date?”

I froze. “W-What?"

  
“I assume with the dress, he was the one on top-”

“Oh my fucking GOD CHARLIE-”

She smirked at me contentedly as I grew steadily more incoherent in my outraged shouting.

Just another morning in our apartment.


End file.
